


Of Pixy Stix and Pliés

by MadQueenCersei



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, This one is pretty gen/friendship but if I continue it'll eventually be shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 20:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4638573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadQueenCersei/pseuds/MadQueenCersei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10-year-old Raven knows she's one of the best students at her dance school, so she's very sad when she doesn't beat out all the older kids for a bigger role in the Nutcracker. When she sneaks back into the studio to practice more, she runs into an unimpressed Bellamy Blake, and she just has to prove to him how awesome she is, doesn't she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Pixy Stix and Pliés

**Author's Note:**

  * For [succubitches](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=succubitches).



At ten years old, Raven isn’t expecting much from this tryout for her dance school’s play. Sure, her jazz skills are off the charts, and her ballet passes and pirouettes are amazing, but the biggest and best roles always go to the older kids.

So she goes along her merry way, and when she’s cast as Girl at Christmas Party 5 and Green Bon-Bon 10, she doesn’t complain. She re-ties her hair bow, straightens her tutu, and launches into her gym/jazz routine with the enthusiasm she has when throwing back Pixy Stix. After the cartwheels, leaps, and jazz-inflected turns, she’s exhausted, but she knows that at the very least, she’s getting stronger.

She’s always sad when the class ends, because that means she can’t get lost in a world of daring movements and reaching for the stars. She likes to believe that dancing can take her to places she’s never been, but it’s hard to pretend she’s in Madrid or Jerusalem when she tries practicing barre work on her mom’s beer-stained couch as the TV blares, Ester in the other room with some man Raven’s never seen before.

It can’t hurt to sneak back in for just a few minutes, right? Miss Callie is still here, so it’s not like she’s staying here alone by herself. And it’s not like Ester Reyes Burciaga will be sober enough to pick her up, anyway – no one could pay Raven enough to get in her car.

So in her jazz shoes, she tiptoes across the floor of the lobby, takes a quick peek at Miss Callie through her office’s glass windows, and ducks into one of the two studios the dance school has before her teacher realizes what’s happening.

After slamming the door shut, she stands there for a moment and smiles from ear to ear, in shock that she did it.

“Hey!” a wobbly voice shouts. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

Raven turns around carefully, gripping the bottom of her tutu so she doesn’t look like shaking. Over at the barre, with his leg up and pointed perfectly, staring directly at her, is an older boy with messy hair, beautiful dark skin just a shade lighter than hers, and freckles dotting his face. He looks like he knows what he’s doing, but he also looks like he’s going to kick her out.

“Hijo de puta*,” she mutters. Then, she smacks a grimace onto her face like she’s seen teenagers in movies make. “I want to practice here. I’ve got to have my jazz routine perfect for Thursday.”

The boy lifts up on the ball of his left heel, gracefully lifting his right ankle off the barre and letting his leg arc through the air. His foot lands behind him, exactly parallel to his other foot. Holy shit, this is a boy she needs to know – there aren’t many people in Ark, Virginia who can land in fifth position, much less after barre stretching.

“I’m not stopping you,” he says, looking really indifferent. “As long as you don’t make us get caught.”

Raven sticks up her chin, placing her hands on her hips and puffing up her (admittedly flat) chest. “You were here first.”

“And you’re still here.”

“I’ll show you,” Raven proclaims, and despite being 4’7” and about 80 pounds soaking wet, she lifts up the bundled mat nearest to the door, lugs it to the center of the studio, and rolls it out gently. She does a quick minute of warmups, watching the boy’s eyes follow her the whole time.

“Is my stretching okay, maniak*?” she says pointedly. 

He jerks suddenly, as if he didn’t think he’d get caught. “It’s fine, kid.”

She sighs dramatically. No one gets to kid-zone Raven Lea Reyes Burciaga. “Don’t call me kid.”

“You’re a pipsqueak – I can call you whatever I want.”

Raven squares her hips to the side and lifts her leg up for a jazz passe, holding it as her arms extend. “I’m ten years old, not a baby,” she says, rotating her arms and wrists. “What are you, twelve?”

“I’m fourteen,” the boy protests, his voice shooting from mid-range to high as a little girl’s to weirdly low. She snorts. Puberty does weird things to boys. She’s glad Finn’s only eight – at least he isn’t turning into an adult on her.

“Your voice sounds funny.”

“You look funny.” God, this boy is just a dick. She needs to show him he can’t mess with her.

“Does this look funny to you?” And then, while humming the bon-bon song, she launches into the Green Bon-Bon routine, a series of leaps, tumbles, and jazz steps that let her move around not just the mat, but the whole studio. She runs, turns, twists her hips and launches herself into the air, and when she lands back in first position, fingers stretched both high and low, the boy’s jaw is hanging pretty low.

“Wow,” he says, his voice cracking again. “That was pretty good, for a kid.”

She can’t help but beam at him. She’ll still hold his rudeness against him, but Raven loves to be told that she’s a great dancer. “Of course it was. I’m awesome.”

“You’re pretty cocky, aren’t you?”

“I’m not cocky!” she nearly yells, but at a wide-eyed look from the boy, she lowers her voice to a whisper. “Miss Callie says I’m the best in my class. It’s really nice. But she wouldn’t give me a big part, even though I wanted more than anything to be Clara this year.”

“You know that part goes to the big kids, right?” the boy says in a snarky tone she really doesn’t like. “You just have to wait it out.”

“That’s easy for you to say! You’re a big kid already. I even learned the pink bon-bon dance and the Spanish chocolate dance and the Waltz of the Flowers. I don’t think she was all that impressed.”

The boy, now leaning dangerously against the barre, looks like he’s studying her. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t mind it too much. “I am.”

“Oh.”

“And if she’s not impressed, she’s an idiot. What’s your name?” he asks, more gentle than he was before. “If we’re going to spend the next hour in here together, I can’t call you ‘kid’.”

Raven bites her lip. “Raven Lea Reyes Burciaga. But you can call me Raven for short.”

He smiles at her, and it looks like one of those rare grins that’s actually real. “Nice to meet you, Raven. I’m Bellamy.”

She wrinkles up her nose. “That’s kind of a weird name.”

“It’s French,” he says, as if that makes it glamorous all of a sudden. “It means ‘beautiful friend’.”

Well, if it’s important enough to him that he knows that, she won’t budge. Instead, she decides she’ll let him into her inner sanctum of dancing. “Well, Bellamy.” Beautiful friend. She likes that. “Do you want to see what I’d look like as the starring pink bon-bon?”

He nods slowly. “Sure. Show me what you’ve got.”

And that’s it – she’s off from one routine to another. First it’s the light enthusiasm of the Pink Bon-Bon that runs out from under the fat lady’s skirts, and she finishes with a pose that gets Bellamy to nod approvingly. 

Then, she begins to move her arms jerkily, like a wooden doll’s, and she dances a waltz with a boy who she can only imagine. When she turns around, Bellamy makes some dumb comment about how she could’ve asked him to dance. She ignores him because even though boys are getting cuter, this one’s still a jerk.

Next, she’s Arabian coffee, shaking her hips and doing backwards walkovers like she was born to, and before he can applaud, she shushes him.

“Watch this,” she says. She starts to hum the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, and even though she hasn’t learned pointe yet, she’s copied the little lifts and turns and leaps and swoops to the best of her ability. When she finishes, she grins back at him. “That’s gonna be me one day.”

Bellamy’s got some kind of far-away look in his eyes that she doesn’t really like. “Bellamy, are you okay?”

“Turn around, Raven,” he says worriedly, and when she looks at the door, she stares up at the wide eyes of Miss Callie.

“What are you two doing in here? Is everything okay?”

Bellamy shrugs. “Mom’s working late again. She told me to wait until eight, and I wanted to get more practice in.”

Raven hopes she doesn’t look like a scared little kid when she imitates his shrug and says, “My mom’s busy tonight. I just wanted to practice because I know I’m good and I’ll be super happy as the green bon-bon but I like all the other ones better.”

Miss Callie doesn’t seem mad, though, just…tired, somehow. She looks down at Raven and smiles a bit. “I know you do. And I promise you, Raven, you’re gonna get there soon. You just need to be patient and keep working, and you’re going to be one of the best students at this school.”

Raven gapes. She can’t believe Miss Callie is actually okay with all of this, that she likes her. “How do you do it?”

“Why don’t you ask Bellamy over there?”

She turns, confused, to face him. Bellamy grunts, running a hand through his hair. “This is my seventh year here,” he says, and Raven can’t believe it. “I didn’t get any Nutcracker roles until last year. And now I’m playing the boy doll. I just watched you dance for half an hour, Raven. So, uh, you may be a pain, but you’re amazing.”

Raven’s eyes dart from Bellamy to Miss Callie and back again. If she had really bad judgment, she’d run up and kiss him on the cheek right now. Instead, she just smiles back. “I told you I was amazing,” she says in a softer voice, “didn’t I?”

That’s when another woman shows up behind Miss Callie, looking exhausted but determined. She must be Bellamy’s mother. “Bell,” she says a little wearily, “I’m so sorry I’m late. It’s time to go home.”

Bellamy’s face hardens in a way that Raven really doesn’t like. She recognizes kids like her, the ones dealing with too much too early, and even if he’s four years older, she knows he’s just like her. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Nice to see you, Ms. Cartwig,” Bellamy’s mom says, darting out into the lobby to wait.

With the unexpected visitor gone, Miss Callie turns back towards Raven and smiles again. “Bellamy’s right. If you keep working hard and showing me that you can be happy doing what’s age-appropriate, too, you’ll get there. We can’t always be super-charged about everything.” She turns a little bit, and Raven realizes that she’s talking to Bellamy now. “I’m going to wait outside with your mom for a bit. And Raven, I can give you a ride home if you need one.”

Raven tries not to show her shock. “Uh, thanks,” she says hurriedly. Bellamy grunts, which Raven guesses is his version of a thanks.

With that taken care of, Miss Callie walks out of the room, and the door slams shut. Raven starts laughing, and she’s giggling so hard, so belly-aching hard, that eventually, Bellamy joins her in laughing.

“I can’t believe that just happened!” he says to her when they’re done.

“She didn’t kill us?”

“No,” he said. “She really cares a lot, but she doesn’t show it too often – she hates playing favorites. But Raven…” He walks across the studio and stands across from her, the distance pretty much closed. “You just became her favorite, just by being yourself.”

Raven preens a little. “But she clearly likes you too. And if you hadn’t dealt with me being such a pest, I wouldn’t have gotten to show you guys everything.”

He coughs, clearing his throat, though she doesn’t totally get why. “You’re not a pest, Raven.”

“Damn right,” she says, watching his eyes widen. “I’m awesome.”

He shakes his head with a knowing smile. “You’re alright.”

Without thinking, she steps forward and leans against his chest, wrapping her wiry arms around him. Finn’s her one real friend outside of the studio, but she thinks Bellamy might make it onto that friend list, if he hasn’t already. 

After a few seconds’ hesitation, his arms finally wrap around her. They’re tougher and stronger than she’d assumed when she looked at him, but now, they’re just holding her tightly, giving her a safe place. It’s so nice and warm, she can’t even bother to feel embarrassed.

Before she pulls away, she smacks an over-the-top kiss on his cheek, just to see what happens. Bad judgment is just something she’ll have to deal with later.

He squirms a little. “Ugh, gross,” he says, but he’s being a little – what was the word? – sarcastic. She thinks he doesn’t mind.

“Friends?” she asks quietly, still not sure if he’s gotten it. If he’s in eighth grade, it makes sense he wouldn’t want to be friends with a tiny fourth grader like her. He must have better options.

“Friends,” he answers in a deeper register, just as quiet, just as honest. The corners of her mouth quirk up.

“I think you’d better get outside. Your mom’s waiting for you.”

His brows knit together for a moment. “Don’t you need help with the mats?”

Less than an hour ago, he’d watched her struggle to lay them all down. Now, Bellamy is offering to help her with them. Guess that’s what friends are for, she thinks. “I’ll let you know if I need help,” she says. “But I was fine with them before.”

He makes a face, but nods his head, like it pains him to say no. “Okay,” he says. “See you around, Raven.”

She gives him a little wave and a beam that she watches in the mirror, her heart-shaped face practically splitting open as he closes the studio door. In a few minutes, she’ll go outside and ask Miss Callie for that ride, but for now, she’s got a lot of dancing – and thinking – to do.

(In later years, Raven will remember this as the moment that everything starts moving faster, vaulting higher and sending her heart on a path that is as confusing and dizzying as it is rewarding.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for inspiring me to come back to AO3! The prompt for this was "Ballet AU," but my plan is to turn this into a 5+1, with Raven and Bellamy's relationship evolving over the years. Let me know if that's something you'd like :)
> 
> And there's more on the way! Plus, if you'd like to chat about anything, fic-related or not, head over to shireenxbaratheon on Tumblr - my inbox is always open.
> 
> Also: "Hijo de puta" means "son of a bitch" in Spanish, while "maniak" means "idiot" in Hebrew. I have a lot of Sephardi headcanons I don't totally go into here, but they're not hugely important at this point.


End file.
